something from nothing
by Cookies and Ink
Summary: Draco takes matters into his own hands. Trying to run (potentially hoping to die), the Room of Requirement has other ideas and he finds a wand pointing at him. It belongs to Minerva McGonagall and the year is now 1952. [soulmate AU]


**A/N** : Don't even ask me what this is. I absolutely and completely blame the challenges at Hogwarts (forum) and my competitive nature. All prompts and challenges listed at the bottom.

 **Word Count:** 1,793

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 **something from nothing**

Draco exhaled, finally able to relax as darkness enveloped him. His Dark Mark was itching, a constant reminder of the path he found himself on. He was insignificant now and of all the changes that had happened in the past year, that was the one Draco was struggling with the most.

He had grown up wanting to be the most important in whatever room he entered, and for many of his peers, he knew that that was what they saw when they looked at him. Draco Malfoy, heir to one of the richest and powerful families in Magical Britain. The Boy Who Had Everything He Could Ever Want.

Except that had never been true. He had been six when the words had appeared on his wrist and they were one of the first things Draco remember learning to read. Everyone knew of the tattoos but few talked about them, it was strictly taboo. Draco wasn't even sure that everyone had them. The legends said that they were only visible to those who twinned with you, so soulmates could see their name on your wrist. The less known legends talked about the other names, those unfortunate few who had a name on one wrist which would be their lover, and the other destined to be their enemy.

The stories about people like that always ended in tragedy. In one, the hero had died breathing 'I had only wanted to make things better,' which even as a child Draco had thought was stupid.

Draco smiled grimly, his thumb brushing against the name on his left wrist. It felt fitting that he had been cursed with two names. He hadn't realised it when he was younger but he had led a life that more or less invited misfortune.

At least for him, there was no way he could misconstrue which name was who. There were stories of people having twins on their wrists, or someone who they thought was their soulmate killing them in their sleep.

But with Lucius on one wrist and Minerva on the other, Draco merely had a lot more to worry about than mixing names up.

He had thought, for a blissful few years when he was very young, that the names might mean someone else. Then his father had cursed him for the first time when he was eight and he'd fallen off his horse. Of course, all pureblood boys were raised knowing they could not fail, Draco understood that. But before his fourth year his Father put him under two of the Unforgivable Curses. Draco had watched pensieve memories of Muggle torture and each step of the way his electives had been chosen, his marks had been scrutinised. He had been betrothed to Astoria Greengrass and his friends vetted.

His Mother had watched with shadowed eyes, unable to protect him against her husband who was determined to eradicate whatever individualism Draco clung too.

Draco had hated his father by the time he was fifteen. He hated him for making his mother cry and scream in the dead of night, for how Draco flinched at any sort of contact from a person. Then the bastard had been sent to Azkaban and Draco had found himself bound to slavery, destined to die before he was of age.

It was fitting that his Dark Mark was on the same forearm as his Dad's name, the name of his mortal enemy. There were times where Draco had thought the term itself - 'mortal enemy' - was ridiculous but now he realised that his life had been systematically destroyed by one man.

He could have been anything.

Now he was nothing, he had nothing and there was nothing he could do about it.

Just as it did every time Draco gave in and thought about the markings on his skin, his brain skittered away from the name on his right wrist. He had hoped to meet someone who happened to share the name of the Gryffindor Head of House but now Draco could only send a silent apology out to whoever pour soul he was apparently destined for.

He was hiding and if his plans worked, Draco soon would be dead.

Hopefully not literally, but he wasn't sure if cared all that much. Draco had craved power, to become stronger than Lucius, to become stronger than anyone who would harm him. He had been tempted to show the world that he was more than just his name and he had failed. Dumbledore or the Dark Lord would kill him, he knew that.

So Draco was taking control and using what little power he had left to make that decision himself.

He murmured a spell and a soft, pale green light emitted from his wand. There was a letter he left on the floor by the cabinet, a copy of the one he'd written to his Mother. He had wondered how he'd feel writing a suicide note — Draco had realised dully that he hadn't felt anything.

He was alone, isolated and the only person he thought may pay any mind to his disappearance was his Mother. Perhaps it was because he was selfish, a better person would try and save her too but Draco couldn't afford to think about anyone else. He loved her but she hadn't been able to protect him. She would be better off without him.

Where he was going to go, how he was going to run from fate was something Draco had vague plans for. He had been tempted to research, to fantasise about a future but he had stopped himself before the hope became tangible.

All he had to concentrate on was the large standing cabinet directly in front of him.

Minerva.

It was a joke really, another cruel twist of fate. If it was his Transfiguration Professor, someone older than either of his parents, she had never let it be known. Draco had gotten detention three times to try and get in the room alone with her, his skin clammy, wondering what to do. Her demeanour was no different to him than to any of his other students.

Perhaps there was a girl out there, amongst the billions of the world, who had that unusual name. Maybe he'd meet her when he was free. Draco felt his face twist into something that felt more of a grimace than a grin. Trying to force his thoughts out of his mind, he gripped the door handle of the cabinet and pulled, stepping inside swiftly.

His wand still glowed green.

He had been working on this plan for months. Draco's best subject wasn't runes but he was good enough that he had hoped to manipulate the cabinet's power to give him an escape route. He would open the door and be in London. Then he would be on his own.

He pulled the door closed shut, his heart racing. Would it work? Would he just vanish and never reappear?

Nothing happened.

Then outside, Draco heard the Room of Forgotten Things groan and scrape, the sound of stone on stone outside the small wooden box he was in. Some of the elves called it the Room of Requirement, but Draco had never understood why. It had never given him what he needed. He had had to claw and create every opportunity he could take.

The noises grew louder until he raised his wand, some of his apathy burned away into a flicker of nerves. It became a cacophony of sound, the cabinet he was in shaking wildly and Draco fell to his knees. He tried to think, tried to formulate some sort of plan but all the information he had read on the cabinets had mentioned nothing like this.

The silence was so sudden, it was startling. His chest was heaving, wand still clutched tightly as Draco made himself get to his feet. Whatever happened, he would not be on his knees.

"Whatever's in there, come out slowly!"

The voice that spoke was female, with a thick Scottish accent. Draco's heart panged as he realised that he hadn't worked most likely, or if it had there would be witnesses in Borgin's shop. Steeling himself, he nudged open the door with his foot and got ready to cast a spell.

A girl in a Gryffindor uniform had her wand raised, pointed right between his eyes. Her stance was good but Draco had been duelling since before he could legally own a wand and she was weaker on her left side. What caused him to pause instead of cursing her just because he could, was the prefect badge on the lapel of her robes.

He knew all of the prefects, hell he knew most people in the school. He did not recognise this dark-haired girl with freckles and feline green eyes.

"I don't know you. I know all the Slytherins, but not you. Lower your wand," she said firmly, eerily mimicking his own thought process.

"Every single one? Are you sure?" Draco said, unable to hold his tongue.

"Every single one, especially the prefects," she said sharply and he felt his cheeks heat slightly as he realised that he was still wearing his own badges.

"I could say the same thing. Who are you?"

He glanced around. They were in the Room of Forgotten Things but it was different. Several of the bookcases were missing, at least two of the statues and a whole section of warped cauldrons.

"Minerva. Minerva McGonagall. And yourself?"

"Draco."

He knew she realised as soon as he said his name. They stared one another, wands still pointing to each other's faces and then Draco let his fall.

"Well shit," Draco muttered. Time travel? An alternate universe? He didn't know what to think but everything he had been worried about was null and void.

"My… my thoughts exactly. Where have you come from?"

"1996," Draco said, unwilling to think up a clever lie. She blinked, mouth dropping open slightly and then she pulled herself together.

"Well then, I think we should change your clothes and you should come with me to see Professor Dumbledore. I can transfigure you a new robe."

"I can transfigure one myself," he sniffed but she had already done it, silently he noticed. He wondered how to take control of the situation, how to deal with what was happening and abruptly Draco realised he was free. He had only the money in the pouch in his pocket and his wand but his Father was gone. The Dark Lord in this timeline did not know he even existed.

He thought he might have just found his soulmate.

Maybe now he could live a life where he became something out of nothing. Maybe he could learn how to start living.

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 **A/N:** Prompts and Challenges below:

Romance Awarness (August 2018) Day 5 - You have your soulmate's name on one wrist and your mortal enemies on the other.

Draco/Minerva (cross-gen, Love in Motion)

Moroccan Mint Tea: (colour) Pale Green (Sophie's Tearoom)

P12. Relationship: Estranged Son (Character Appreciation)

T2. Isolation - Write about someone feeling isolated. (Disney Challenge)

Word: Information (Trope of the Month)

Purl: Write from the perspective of a Death Eater or someone on the wrong side of events. (Crafty Corner)

The Commander: (trait) lonely, (dialogue) "I only wanted to make things better.", (colour) black (Book Club)

3\. You and Me (But Mostly Me) - (trait) Selfish (Showtime)

1\. I am not a stranger to the dark (Lyric Alley)

11\. BBC — Write about a small part of a large organisation or group. (Ami's Audio Admirations)

1\. Lily (Jily Trash): Write a character study. (Em's Emporium)

13\. Quan Chi: (word) darkness, (color) emerald green, (dialogue) "Believe what you will.", (trait) powerful (Angel's Arcade)

Emily Prentiss: plot point: faking a death. (Lo's Lowdown)

Manny (Manfred) - Write about someone fearing being left alone. (Bex's Bazaar)

54\. (word) Hiding (Film Festival)

46\. Movin' Out: write about a war changing someone (Shay's Musical Challenge)

Gryffindor Themed Prompts: Minerva.

F2. Hazelnut - (theme) temptation (Chocolate Truffle Craze)

Spiced Ginger Biscuits: (theme) Power (Sophie's Tearoom)


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